Cazarratas (Relato)
The butcher's wife glanced round the shop before turning back to her friend. "No, there's nothing wrong with the boy, though he's a bit small for his age. It's the job, you know. Down those tunnels and sewers all the time, it's not healthy. Still, someone's got to do it haven't they?" "I suppose so, or we'd be drowning in the wretched things. Have you got any sausages today?" "I've got some in the back. How many do you want?" "Er... What sort are they?" "Oh, you know. Bits and pieces, spare meat, this and that". "Verushka, are you telling me there's rat in those sausages?" "Oh no, not rat. What a thing to think, i'm ashamed of you, Olga. Of course, if you don't want any sausages..." "No, of course i do, it was just a joke. Can i have six please". The butcher's wife handed over the little packet of sausages. Rat meat, the gall of the woman. Cat, dog, a touch of pigeon maybe, but no rat (well, not much, anyway). ----------------------------------- Ratwald splashed noisily down the sewer after his father. Mitzi and Mutzi pulled on their leads, yapping excitedly. They were only terriers, so the water came right up to their bellies, but it didn't dampen their enthusiasm. "Ratwald!" shouted his father down the passage. "Where are you lad? Hurry up, i've found really something interesting!" Ratwald sighed, and waded on. It was bound to be a rat. Or several rats. They might be dead, but they were probably alive, worst luck, so they'd have to kill them. And then they'd have the usual argument about who'd carry the bodies, and he'd lose and have to hang the horrid things over his shoulder, and they'd drip cold water down his back. As he expected, his father had found a rat, which he was holding at arm's lenght by one of its tails. "Look, Ratwald, have you ever seen such a rat?" "No", replied Ratwald, trying hard to hold onto the dogs. His father seemed disappointed by his lack of interest. "I sometimes wonder if you don't appreciate your lot, lad. You don't realise how lucky you are. The world's falling down around us, with this siege and all, but we've got a steady job. You always need ratcatchers, that's what i say. And the pay's good. Regular hours, plenty of overtime". When i was your age, thought Ratwald. "When i was your age, we didn't have it easy. Oh no, kids had to really work. Didn't have no dogs neither. My father..." "So what's so special about this rat, then?" interjected Ratwald, desperately trying to stem his father's prattle. "You are the apprentice ratcatcher. You tell me". Ratwald peered at the dead rat, trying to recall the diagrams in his father's old ratcatching manuals. "Well", he started cautiously. "It's only got one eye, not two. And..." He was getting into the swing of things. "It should have four legs, not seven, and its fur's a funny colour, rats aren't normally yellow, and, and..." He was beginning to struggle now. "And most rats only have one tail... I think". "Ratwald, i'm impressed", said his father, clapping him on the back. "All those hours of study weren't wasted after all". It was at this point that several things happened at once. Firstly. Ratwald noticed a pair of giant red eyes peering down at them from the tunnel. Then his father gave a strangled scream, and suddenly disappeared under the foul-smelling water as if pulled from underneath. Lastly the terriers both bolted down a side tunnel, pulling him off his feet as he tumbled after them. He couldn't extricate his hand from the leads, and found himself being dragged along the slippery tunnel, desperately trying to regain his footing. The lantern had been swallowed up along with his father, so he was flailing round in total darkness. The dogs were pulling him along with incredible force. In an attempt to control them he wrapped the leads round and round his wrist, planning to grab hold of their collars. His questing hands met fur, but it wasn't the dogs'. There was a lurch, and he felt himself being dragged up out of the water. As his head was repeatedly knocked against the stony ground, he lost consciousness. ------------------ He came to slowly, shivering with the shock and the cold. The first thing his eyes were able to focus on was a gigantic rat. It was sitting in front of him, twitching its nose in his direction. The ends of two leads dangled from its jaws. "You've met-met my little pet-pet haven't you?" He struggled to a siting position, and turned round slowly. Behind him stood a group of people, their outlines fuzzy to his groggy eyesight. Before them stood a tall man, their leader, Ratwald guessed. He seemed to be wearing some sort of carnival mask, a gigantic rat's head, very realistic. He was also wearing a grey fur cloak made out of rat pelts, the odd tail still dangled off it here and there. The leader turned to face his congregation. With his clearing eyesight Ratwald saw that the acolytes were all wearing patchwork fur cloaks. Many had their hoods pulled down over their faces, or wore badly made papier mache rat masks. Wasn't that the butcher's wife on the left, surreptitiously nibbling a sausage? "What shall we do-do with our little spy?" the leader asked. The answer was unanimous. "Rat, rat, rat, rat, RAT, RAT!" they all shouted. Someone at the back got a little carried away by the excitement and started squeaking. Ratwald realised he had missed something, something important, something that probably had a direct bearing on his sanity, possibly even his life. He tried to run, but his path was blocked by the giant rat. "Come to me, boy-boy", commanded the leader, his voice hypnotic, and only a little squeaky. "Come to us, join the brothers in dark-darkness. Learn to love the rat and all his clever ways. Be one with the rat, be one with the darkness". The rat-priest's voice continued to drone on, but Ratwald was having difficulty understanding it. His head started to spin, and he sank down to the ground, unable to hold himself upright any longer. Everything seemed so odd, as if his senses had all changed; his eyesight was distorted, his sense of smell was much keener. What was that thing dragging behind him as he moved? He tried to call out for help. "Eeeeep!" went the rat. "Eeeep, queak-eek!" Fuente * Suplemento Realm of Chaos: The Lost and the Damned (3ª Edición). Categoría:Relato Imperio Categoría:Pendiente de traducir